


Not for All the Love in the World

by Yeah_JSmith



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Bonnie and Stu Being Sweet, F/M, Family, Gen, Light Worldbuilding, Romance Isn't the Only Valid Kind of Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_JSmith/pseuds/Yeah_JSmith
Summary: After meeting their daughter's boyfriend, Bonnie and Stu Hopps have an important conversation about love, family, and what it means to settle.Thanks to The Thrills fortitle inspiration.





	Not for All the Love in the World

Seventeen-year-old Ana Mullido wandered off from her family’s encampment near the Bunnyburrow border and had a one-night stand with Lewis Liddell. One month later, she pushed out five little baby bunnies. Only two of them, Alice and Bonita, survived, and although Ana did marry Lewis, they never tried for any more kits. They didn’t even love each other, really, but that was how it worked for bunnies.

That’s all Bonnie Hopps really knows about her mother’s history, a fragment of a story that seems like it should have at least an addendum. She’s always had the vague sense that her mother’s family disapproved of her decision to leave them — one of the only remaining nomadic rabbit families — to live in some small rural cottage with a nineteen-year-old buck who had no choice but to work on the Hopps family’s farm, but Bonnie never met them. They’ve remained a mystery her whole life.

Growing up, Bonita “Bonnie” Liddell yearned for a family, a _sense of identity,_ but her father Lewis never mentioned where he came from either. Life was full of unspoken things, like how much her parents loathed each other, and why Alice disappeared when they were fourteen, and what was so great about carrots anyway, but that was how it worked for bunnies.

And then she met Stuart Hopps. He was handsome in his own way, not as eye-catching as his brothers but definitely softer, and he always had a funny story to tell while he helped her learn the ropes on the farm. Jokes turned into gifts of food, and then not-so-secret trysts in the barn, and they didn’t really know each other well, but kits were kits.

(At least Bonnie, unlike her mother, had made it to adulthood first.)

Bonnie Hopps embraced her new role as a mother. She had always wanted a family, and now she could make her own with a buck who was “handsome enough” and “nice enough” and wouldn’t say the kinds of things to her that her Liddell family sometimes said to each other. She loved each and every one of their kits and sang them to sleep with promises to never let them get hurt or be alone. She didn’t really love Stu, and Stu didn’t really love her, but it was comfortable, and he loved their kits just as much, and that was how it worked for bunnies.

That was how it was _supposed_ to work for bunnies. Maybe settling for what they could get seemed silly and unambitious to other species, but as the old proverb said, “Better to be alive than to be happy.” Good enough was good enough, even if it wasn’t good enough for others.

Judy, though — little Judahlia Laverne — never did believe in settling for what she could get. It scared the dickens out of Bonnie, watching one of her kits push and push for things that would make her sad and lonely and maybe even get her killed. It made her angry, too; was the life Bonnie gave her not _good enough?_ Was she really so ungrateful for everything she had that she felt entitled to ask for _more, more, more?_ The whole warren knew Judy’s name, all three of them, not because she was particularly exceptional, but because she was always getting herself into trouble. She certainly got the belt more often than the rest of her siblings, though whether she really was that much of a troublemaker or she was just good at taking the fall for others’ mischief is anyone’s guess.

Now, Bonnie thinks she was terribly hard on Judy, unfairly so. But Judy’s never mentioned it, and Bonnie has no idea how to go about apologizing for something she’s not even certain was wrong.

She leans back in the porch swing as she watches her most troublesome daughter lead her fox boyfriend, Nick, to the truck that will take them to the train station. Judy’s paw is threaded through Nick’s beltloop in a half-possessive way, and Bonnie watched in amusement while Judy tugged Nick around by his tie a time or two during their visit, and it’s clear that Judy won’t ever be a “normal” bunny. It hurts, and not just because Judy is now a full-fledged police officer, which is an inherently dangerous job.

It hurts, because Bonnie’s never seen a love like that, love that can be read right off the face. Judy is fiercely protective of Nick, not because they’re partners or because they’re family, but because she loves him. She would go to the ends of the earth for him, and he, for her. That’s not how it works for bunnies. It’s just _not._ And yes, Bonnie’s happy with the life she built for herself, happy to be away from her toxic parents, happy to have kits and a husband who treats her with respect and care, but settling for what you can get…

...it’s less dangerous, but it lacks passion.

“Whoo, that Nick’s gonna have his paws full,” Stu says cheerfully, giving Bonnie a glass of sweet tea and sitting down next to her. In the dim light of dusk, she can hardly see how much he’s aged. He frowns a little. “Uh-oh, I know that look. What’s wrong, Bon?”

“I just…” She stops, fiddling with her glass. She’s not sure what words to use to ask her questions, because she’s _not_ unhappy, and she’d never go back and do everything over, even if she had the chance. Frustrated with her lack of adequate vocabulary, she gestures at nothing and says, “They’re so in love.”

“Yeah, that _is_ a little weird, but Jude needs some companionship, and if he loves her he’s more motivated to keep her safe,” Stu answers pragmatically. “Zootopia wasn’t made for bunnies. I’m glad she found herself a big tough city boy like him, even if he _is_ a fox.”

Bonnie snorts in reluctant amusement. Nick is many things, including a city boy, but tough isn’t one of them. Oh, sure, he’s strong and capable enough to get through the ZPA, but he also had to pretend allergies when Cotton made him a flower crown, and he’s visibly grossed out by slime and dirt.

(Thank goodness he can cook, because Judy, bless her, is an absolute _menace_ in the kitchen.)

It feels a little easier to talk now that Stu’s made a joke. Whether that was the point, she’s not sure, but the result is the same. “Do you ever wonder what might have happened if we had courted before we had sex?”

“Not really. I’m happy with how things turned out.” He cocks his head. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course I am,” she tells him firmly, reaching over to slide her paw into his and squeeze it gently. She remembers the early days, when they could barely keep their paws off each other, fucking against walls or in the beds of trucks or wherever they could get a little privacy. For all his other shortcomings, Stu has always been a generous lover, eager and thorough, and he could never fathom taking anything she wasn’t willing to give. He’s a good father and has a decent head for business; he’s the one who took the family farm public and came up with a way to export carrots to neighboring towns. He’s a _good husband._ “I just wonder. You’re my best friend, my heart-brother, but it never occurred to me to bring you around to officially meet my parents, even when we had our first litter.”

“Well, that’s because your parents were terrible.” He pulls her close, pulls the tea out of her paw and sets it on the ground by their feet so that he can slip his arms around her in a loose hug. She leans into him, resting her ear on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, feeling the vibrations of his words. “I know what you mean. It’s scary to see our little Jude the Dude, all grown up and doing everything bunnies aren’t supposed to do. Romance was always something other species did — or just a silly plot device on terrible TV shows. But you know what?”

“Hmm?”

“It goes the other way, too. What’s right for us wasn’t right for her — and what’s right for her wasn’t right for us. You’re my best friend, too. We have a family and a life. And we have the option now to choose something else, but I...I wouldn’t.” He sniffles a little and tightens his grip. “I wouldn’t give you up, Bon. Not for all the love in the world.”

“Oh, _Stu,”_ she whispers. “I didn’t mean-”

“I’ll try harder to love you-”

“Stu.” She sits up quickly and puts a finger over his mouth before he can really get going. Leans forward. Smiles. “I wouldn’t give you up, either. I don’t need you to try harder at anything.”

It’s been a long time since she last kissed him. They’re busy, and they’re old; what they have isn’t like what Judy has with Nick. It’s comfortable, it’s casual — but that doesn’t mean it’s unimportant. What they have is a quiet love, and maybe it’s not the kind of thing anyone would write a ballad about, but it’s theirs.

Dusk turns into twilight turns into night, and lost in the scent of honeysuckle and each other, they forget about the tea.

**Author's Note:**

> "We settled hard."  
> "Bunnies don't do that."


End file.
